


Just Like the Movies

by WeirdHybrid



Category: EXO (Band), GOT7
Genre: Cheating, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-10
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-30 23:10:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5183165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WeirdHybrid/pseuds/WeirdHybrid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Kyungsoo musters up courage to make a move on the man he's been in love with for years. Unfortunately, his timing isn't great.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

            “What do you think, Soo?” Chanyeol rotated on the spot, looking down at himself as he spun. “It looks pretty good right?”

            Kyungsoo sat back against Chanyeol’s headboard, crossing his arms, wearing an assessing expression.

            “It’s… it’s fine.” As it came out of his mouth, he knew it sounded colder than he’d meant it. “It’s nice.” Better.

            “You don’t like it.” Chanyeol stopped spinning and put his enormous hands on his hips, eying Kyungsoo from across the room. “Is it the color? I don’t wear much pink, but…”

            “I do like it. It fits you well.” Now he was too flirty. Kyungsoo inwardly chastised himself, resolving to regain his composure, even as Chanyeol brushed his hands down the front of his raspberry-colored sweater, accentuating the firm body hidden beneath the soft cashmere. “Jackson has good taste.” He offered a smile, as pleasant and reassuring as he could manage. Chanyeol beamed in response.

            “Oh good. I think so, too.” He nodded, satisfied, then turned to look for his watch on the top of his bureau. Kyungsoo took the few seconds of reprieve to sigh silently to himself, both pleased at his recovery and, as always, a tiny bit devastated that Chanyeol didn’t see right through his act.

            “You ready to head out?” Kyungsoo looked up to find Chanyeol facing him again, adjusting his sleeve cuffs to show just an inch or two of his taut forearms. Kyungsoo was glad for his many years of experience hiding his attraction to Chanyeol; he smiled and climbed off Chanyeol’s bed coolly, despite a nervous thrum in his throat.

            They both approached the door, Kyungsoo just behind Chanyeol’s towering figure, when Chanyeol paused abruptly.

            “Oh! Wait!”

            Chanyeol turned around in the cramped corner of his bedroom, almost knocking Kyungsoo over. He grabbed Kyungsoo’s shoulders, a pleased look playing in his eyes.

            “Just… hold on one second.”

            He snuck past Kyungsoo, leaving him waiting by the door as he darted into his bathroom. After a few moments of clattering and rummaging, he re-emerged, holding a small glass bottle in his hands.

            “I forgot! I don’t get to wear this very often. Apparently second graders’ noses are too sensitive for a little cologne.” He held out the bottle to Kyungsoo, showing him the front face of it. He pointed to the bottom edge, where tiny gold letters marked the otherwise plain glass. “I know it says my name, but since you gave it to me, I’ll let you wear some if you want, Soo.”

            Kyungsoo hesitated for a second as Chanyeol held the cologne up to his neck and spritzed, a fine mist of the stuff coating his skin, falling on the collar of the sweater. The scent hit Kyungsoo’s nose in waves. Cedar. Sharp clove. Fire. Heat.

            “Soo? You want some?”

            Kyungsoo blinked, seeing Chanyeol holding the bottle up again, aiming the little nozzle toward him.

            “Sure,” he answered before he could think better of it.

            Chanyeol grinned and leaned down a bit, taking Kyungsoo’s right hand in his left. Kyungsoo held as still as he could. He had hoped proximity to Chanyeol might have lost its fervent effect on his nervous system, but six years of suppressed obsession had built up, rather than cooled off; trying not to move too much when Chanyeol was this close tended to work well enough.

            Turning Kyungsoo’s wrist over in his hand, Chanyeol scooted the sleeve of his sedate navy sweater up a few inches and aimed the bottle at the revealed pale expanse of his arm. He pressed the nozzle, a cool spray dotting Kyungsoo’s wrist.

            “Now rub ‘em together,” Chanyeol said as he motioned at Kyungsoo’s other wrist, prompting him to press them together, further clouding Kyungsoo’s head with the fragrance. “Okay. Now we can go.” Chanyeol grinned that dopey, childish grin again, ducking back into his bathroom to replace his cologne on his counter as Kyungsoo quickly brought his wrist to his nose, inhaling the cologne deeply before correcting his sleeves. It didn’t smell quite right on his own skin – flatter, almost dirty. He sighed again as Chanyeol led the way out of his apartment.

\--- --- ---

            It was a last hurrah of sorts. The six of them wouldn’t be together again like this for a long time. Chanyeol refused to say it was the last time, so they all appeased him with half-empty reassurances that they’d visit, they’d meet halfway, etc. But with Jongin headed somewhere in Europe to join a prestigious ballet company, Junmyeon leaving for the city in just a few days to start his doctorate work, and Sehun moving in with his boyfriend two hours way before the end of the month, Kyungsoo knew this was it for their crew.

            It had been Baekhyun’s idea to spend it this way, though. He thought the symmetry was poetic, fitting the slightly melancholy occasion.

            “Junma, you tell the story.”

            “Baek…”

            “Junma, please. You’re abandoning us for greener pastures in forty-eight hours, the least you can do is humor me in my drunken antics.”

            Kyungsoo laughed with the others as Junmyeon fixed Baekhyun with his well-practiced look of fatherly chastisement before leading the group down memory lane, taking them all back to their early college days.

            “It was a cool autumn evening, not unlike this one…”

            “I was wrong, Chanyeol, you tell it.” Baekhyun interrupted, waving his arms emphatically, earning a little shove from Junmyeon, though he appeared to be relieved to sit back and listen to Chanyeol’s goofy baritone with the others.

            The six of them were sprawled out on Jongin and Sehun’s shared back porch, as they had been the first time they’d hung out as a group. Now, five years later, not much had changed, really. Junmyeon was still the reluctant leader of the group, if only for his top notch first aid and reluctance to get so plastered he couldn’t talk his way out of a noise violation on his friends’ behalves at 4:30 in the morning. Jongin was still the quiet one, that is, until someone (usually Baekhyun) suggested shots, after which point Jongin became an insatiable flirt, splitting his time between laughing raucously at anything anyone said and gyrating to whatever music someone (usually Baekhyun) would put on for that express purpose. Sehun was still an odd, lovable combination of snarky and needy, while Baekhyun was still the instigator, an enduring trait at odds with his surprisingly successful turn at law school. Chanyeol was caring: generous with his time, his attention, his laughter. And Kyungsoo was ineffably, irreparably in love with him.

            It had been that way since that first night on this porch. Kyungsoo could remember hearing Baekhyun, his roommate at the time, mock Chanyeol’s long, bowed legs and his “yoda ears,” as he’d stumbled outside, beer in hand, meanwhile Kyungsoo was losing his center of gravity, being pulled so insistently toward him. He’d spent that night in a daze, thoroughly cowed by the unassuming charm Chanyeol emitted with every chuckle, every shy duck of his chin. Not much had changed in five years.

            “Soo?”

            Kyungsoo snapped back from his memories to find Chanyeol standing above him, eyebrows raised in question.

            “Huh?”

            “You need another?” Chanyeol tapped his finger to the trio of empty beer bottles he hand in hand.

            “Oh.” Kyungsoo looked down at the warmish, half empty beer next to him, “Yeah, please.”

            “Can do, Kyungsoo.” Chanyeol said in a sing-song voice, smiling brightly as he followed Sehun inside for reinforcements

            “You ever going to tell him?”

            Kyungsoo looked away from the doorway through which Chanyeol had disappeared. Jongin was watching him from his hunched position on the bench seating a couple feet away, his jagged, torn nails fiddling with the saturated label on his beer. Kyungsoo balked for a second, glancing at Baekhyun and Junmyeon, concerned. But the two eldest were too busy playing some hand slapping game to notice Jongin’s casual, but pointed question. Kyungsoo resigned his slightly buzzed brain to answer truthfully.

            “Probably not, no. What good would it do now?” he muttered, taking up his own bottle from the worn wooden plank floor beside him, sloshing the amber contents within.

            “Yeah, you’re right. He seems pretty happy with Jackson,” Jongin mused, peeling a satisfying hunk of label in one go. “They’ve been together – ”

            “Three months.” Kyungsoo supplied, hoping to quash any more discussion of Chanyeol’s exuberant, charismatic, young, ridiculously hot boyfriend by cutting Jongin off, punctuating his terse answer by draining his beer all at once. It’s not like Chanyeol hadn’t dated in the past, but there was something unique about the way Chanyeol talked about Jackson, some singular, fluttery excitement in his eyes when he said his name that made Kyungsoo sick with envy and regret. He knew that look. He felt it in his own eyes when he looked at Chanyeol. A thin, cheap taste coated Kyungsoo’s mouth, warm beer and stalwart self-doubt complementing each other on his tongue.

            “Three months already.” Jongin remained occupied with his beer bottle, his voice light, almost superfluous in its tone. “That’s not really very long at all, is it.” Kyungsoo looked sideways, watching Jongin.

            If he had to say, out of the five, Jongin knew him best. It wasn’t Baekhyun, whom Kyungsoo had known the longest, or Chanyeol, with whom he tended to spend the most time. It was Jongin, introverted, unassuming Jongin, who had quietly observed Kyungsoo, learned him, and somehow just… _got_ him. It was almost eerie sometimes, how Jongin could read him so easily. It made Kyungsoo feel naked, though, if he were honest, also grateful. Grateful not to have to pretend.

            “Not really…” Kyungsoo answered hesitantly, unsure of Jongin’s trajectory.

            “Mm…” Jongin worked another long piece of label away from the sweating glass, placing it in his lap carefully. “I wonder… what might have happened if you’d told him before. I _know_ you couldn’t, then,” Jongin spoke over Kyungsoo’s ready protest, “but, just thinking… I wonder what might have happened between you two. If he’d known, I mean. If somehow, he knew what he is to you.”

            Kyungsoo both hated and reveled in this sort of hypothetical. For years, he’d wondered what it might be like if he suddenly sprouted bravery from his buried heart, what it would be like to see himself in Chanyeol’s eyes as… someone. Someone important. Someone precious. Desirable. Wanted.

            But that was dangerous territory, fraught with fleeting, false daydreams that bled into nightmares. Why would Jongin bring this up now? Why dig at that wound…

            “I don’t know. Too late now.” Kyungsoo looked back up to the back door, hearing Chanyeol’s broad laughter through the walls, feeling more sad than irritated.

            “Is it?” Kyungsoo flicked his eyes back to watch Jongin pick at the last little scraps of paper, then hold up the clean bottle, peering through the brown glass. “I don’t know about that. Three months isn’t much compared to five years, is it?”

            The beer in Kyungsoo’s stomach felt suddenly fizzier, a sour taste creeping up his throat.

            “What…”

            “Did you miss us?”

            Kyungsoo whipped his head away from Jongin’s contemplative, almost contorted posture on the bench, Chanyeol and Sehun having returned with arms full of varied brown and green bottles. They placed most of them on the cheap plastic table for later and handed out the rest.

            “For you, Junma, happy birthday. Baekhyun, merry Christmas.” Chanyeol bowed low to each, then turned to Kyungsoo. He smiled and sat, mirroring Kyungsoo’s seated lean against the bench seat, absurdly long legs extending far past Kyungsoo’s own. He extended his hand, offering a cold beer. “Happy New Year, Do Kyungsoo.”

            “It’s November, Yeollie.”

            “Yeollie? Maybe I should take the beer back, you’re already using my cute nickname.” He raised his eyebrows in mock recrimination, then laughed, tipping his beer back toward his lips. Kyungsoo quickly glanced back at Jongin, who gave him the briefest, mildest of nods, then turned back to Sehun, who appeared to be complaining about something.

_Three months isn’t much compared to five years_.

            Kyungsoo swallowed the mix of trepidation and ill-advised hope down with a sip of beer that made his teeth hurt with the cold.

_Three months. Five years._

_I wonder what might happen…_

            Kyungsoo shifted a little, scooting just an inch closer to Chanyeol, as Baekhyun suggested a drinking game.

            The six of them played stupid, childish games, letting the effect of the alcohol keep them warm in the October chill. Kyungsoo found himself losing focus, watching steam puff out from Chanyeol’s lips as he spoke, then in gusts when he laughed. A few hours passed, easy and comfortable, as beer turned into some spicy liquor Sehun found in the back of a cupboard. Predictably, Jongin succumbed to his alter ago, encouraged by Baekhyun’s “PARTY TIME BITCHES” playlist, his cheeks blazing red as he grinned at everyone in turn, dancing with a reluctant Junmyeon, then Sehun.

            “Won’t Minseok be concerned you’re dancing with another man, Hunnie?” Chanyeol prodded.

            “First, if I was going to let Jongin fuck me, that would have happened a long time ago. Second, Minseok isn’t the jealous type. And third… third…”

            “This should be good.” Baekhyun added through pursed lips before bringing the bottle of liquor to his lips.

            “Third… fuck you, Chanyeol. Sideways.” Sehun slurred before refocusing on grinding his ass back toward Jongin in earnest, a satisfied smile on his face.

            “Is Jackson the jealous type?”

            Kyungsoo partly wished he could snatch the words out of the air before they reached Chanyeol’s ear, or that he was maybe drunk enough that he had simply imagined himself vocalizing the question that had been rolling around in his head the last few minutes.

            “Huh? Oh, uh… I don’t know really. There hasn’t been much cause for him to be jealous, but… I doubt it,” Chanyeol answered thoughtfully, angling toward Kyungsoo. “Why do you ask?”

_Three months isn’t much compared to five years_.

            “Just curious, I guess.”

            “You don’t really like him much, do you?”

            Kyungsoo looked up at Chanyeol, his own wide eyes meeting Chanyeol’s warm, mildly disappointed ones.

            “No, I…”

            “It’s okay, we don’t have to talk about it.”

            “No, Yeollie… I just…” Kyungsoo’s head was too fuzzy, too garbled by booze and Chanyeol’s cologne, by the steam folding over his lips, by his long fingers wrapped around green glass. He had to repair this. Recover while he still could and get out of there. “I just don’t think he’s…” He tried to shove the words down, but there just wasn’t room. Affection, years of it, threatened to seep out of him, through his voice and his fingers and his eyes, aching to see how Chanyeol would receive them.

_I wonder what might happen…_

            “You don’t think what, Soo?” Chanyeol’s voice was so close, so genuine and sweet in Kyungsoo’s ears. Torturously close.

            “I just don’t think he’s good enough for you,” Kyungsoo half-whispered, letting his hand drift over from his own lap to Chanyeol’s, resting on his thigh lightly.

            Chanyeol blinked, eyebrows peaking minutely for just a moment. Kyungsoo felt his fingers pulse around Chanyeol’s leg once of their own volition, his mind seemingly already passed out while his body caused trouble. It felt good though, Chanyeol’s body firm, strong under his hand. Not so different from how he’d imagined.

            “Not good enough? Why – ”

            “Good’s the wrong word.” Kyungsoo felt his body, his lips and his fingers, move without the sober restraints of doubt and self-loathing to make them behave. Jongin’s words were like a key, freeing him from guilt, and apparently logic; he locked eyes with Chanyeol again, making his heart kick out of rhythm. “I just mean… he doesn’t _know_ you. Not like…”

            Kyungsoo wanted to say it. It sat on his tongue like a bomb ready to go off, crudely built to ruin everything in a few short moments, but five years of highly controlled restraint was a lot to undermine in an evening, no matter how drunk he was. He wished he could be like everyone else, free with their feelings and resilient in rejection. But he was fragile here, under Chanyeol’s boyishly innocent gaze. He knew he couldn’t go any further.

            So Kyungsoo, in his boozy wisdom, shuffled through his half a decade of daydreams and wet dreams, cobbling together… someone else. Someone who wouldn’t swallow this chance, who wouldn’t wuss out like he had every other time. Someone who deserved Chanyeol.

            It took Chanyeol about three seconds to react at all. And surprisingly, it wasn’t by pulling away.

            Kyungsoo felt hot breath on his lips, a puff of cinnamon-laced steam, and Chanyeol kissed back. His lips were soft, a little dry as he leaned into Kyungsoo, but moisture gathered between them, wetting Kyungsoo’s own buzzing lips. Kyungsoo tried desperately to breathe normally, not in the stuttered, shallow hiccups he was managing now, because that’s not what a Confident Person would do. His mind overflowed with the millions of visions he’d agonized over of Chanyeol’s perfect lips on his, his tongue, his taste, his scent.

            His voice.

            Chanyeol breathed out as their lips parted slightly, the bass of his voice barely registering in Kyungsoo’s ear. But it was sweet music, and Kyungsoo held onto it for dear life. He had caused that response, he had earned that from Chanyeol. He’d spent years fantasizing about what Chanyeol might… sound like. And now he felt greedy for more.

            They pulled apart, but Kyungsoo held fast, his hand having crept up Chanyeol’s leg, his fingers curled dangerously into his jeans.

            “Soo?” Chanyeol stammered, his voice thick. He looked like he was half awake, eyes flooded and a little droopy. This, to Kyungsoo’s equally inebriated brain, seemed like a good thing. His lack of anger, shock, or disgust was a positive sign, if nothing else.

            “Follow me.”

            Kyungsoo stood, a little less gracefully than he’d hoped, his feet icy cold and numb under him. He wobbled, a wave of pins and needles playing at both arches. Before he could take a wrong step, Chanyeol was there, standing and holding him steady, both hands solid around his waist.

            “Maybe you should follow me,” Chanyeol grumbled against Kyungsoo’s ear, quiet and insistent. Without another word, to each other or to the other four, they walked hastily inside, but not quite fast enough for Kyungsoo to miss Jongin’s odd expression of cool encouragement.

            They made their way toward the front of the house, Kyungsoo’s hand grasped firmly in Chanyeol’s larger one, stopping at the little alcove outside Jongin’s bedroom. In the small space, Kyungsoo smelled Chanyeol’s cologne as if it were suffocating him, all sweet smoke and flame. He looked up, finding Chanyeol’s eyes searching and exasperated.

            “What… what was that?”

            Kyungsoo didn’t know how to answer, so he conjured up what he hoped was a teasing stare before linking his hands around Chanyeol’s neck, bringing the giant down to his level and kissing him again, all wet and cloying.

            Another sound, a little louder than last time, rumbled up Chanyeol’s throat as his hands found Kyungsoo’s hips, tentative at first, then gripping with an edge of want, sending a hot shiver over Kyungsoo’s smaller frame.

            Feeling Chanyeol move with him, give into his abrupt advances, made Kyungsoo dizzy with euphoria. Five years he’d dreamed of these lips, these soft, pulsing lips that were _kissing him back,_ saying yes to the question Kyungsoo asked. He tasted Chanyeol, savored the heady smell of him, knowing he was overeager and not caring at all. This was his chance. This was Kyungsoo’s one chance to show Chanyeol what they could be.

            As he indulgently sucked on Chanyeol’s bottom lip, Kyungsoo felt around and found the doorknob to Jongin’s bedroom, tripping a little as his balance gave way. It was dark, though the moonlight from the window illuminated enough for them to find the bed, primly made up as per Jongin’s style. Kyungsoo pulled Chanyeol by the shirt, sitting him down on the edge of the mattress, only a little clumsily. Everything was jumbling in Kyungsoo’s head, the liquor, Jongin’s strange, leading words, the slightly desperate undertone of the evening, his own uncontrollable desire to never stop kissing Chanyeol. His brain was lagging behind so badly, trying to fit the pieces of the last few minutes together, that he didn’t even realize he’d climbed on top of Chanyeol until he was buried in his neck, sucking and nibbling at the skin like that alone could sustain him. The tickly, boozy feeling in his mouth made it that much better, running his teeth up the ridge of Chanyeol’s adam’s apple, earning himself another bassy groan. Having Chanyeol under him like this, in his hands, was so far beyond anything Kyungsoo had thought possible (despite how often he had dreamed of exactly this scenario), it made his adopting a separate, braver persona not just easy, but necessary. Sober Kyungsoo would have never licked up the helix of one of Chanyeol’s prominent ears, much less grip his hair in one hand and the front of his shirt with the other, murmuring his name hotly as he did so.

            Chanyeol shivered roughly and Kyungsoo heard his breath falter, everything too hot and too close already.

            “Soo…” Kyungsoo heard a note of hesitance in Chanyeol’s voice and panicked. He had to hold on. He could be enough, he could convince him. He just had to push further.

            “Yeollie…” he breathed, slowly and sweetly pulling the name out like taffy, running his hand down Chanyeol’s body, twisting his wrist oddly to reach down between his legs. It was a little awkward, they were both wearing too many clothes, but he felt he got his point across, since Chanyeol gasped and almost banged their heads together as he jolted, angling back a few inches, inadvertently raising his hips up into Kyungsoo’s own.

            “Fuck, Soo...” Chanyeol growled out, his hands cutting a little more insistently into Kyungsoo’s waist. He’d always wanted to feel that touch, those long hands handling him like this, and Kyungsoo answered, tipping his pelvis forward and down, clenching his thighs around Chanyeol’s hips and pressing his hand along his hardening length. It felt entirely foreign to be in control, to seduce someone, to see this waiting, desperate look of surprise in Chanyeol’s eyes, and Kyungsoo knew, peripherally, he didn’t have long to enjoy it.

            “Yeollie, can we just…” he curled his fingers around Chanyeol’s growing bulge as leaned in again, kissing Chanyeol’s temple, his eyebrow, his top lip, his jaw. “Can we maybe… pretend?”

            “Wh-what?” Chanyeol stuttered out, his hands gripping Kyungsoo tighter than he realized.

            Kyungsoo tongued his way into Chanyeol’s mouth again, swiveled his hips in his best impression of Jongin, and kissed him like he’d wanted to since that first night, and every moment since. Like he was his.

            “Yeollie…” Kyungsoo panted out when he broke away, holding Chanyeol’s face on both sides. “Let’s pretend it’s three months ago.”

            He said it without thinking, without knowing where he was going, unsure if bringing up his poor timing was possibly the worst thing he could have said… but it sounded so good coming off his lips. Challenging, self-aware. Something close to _sexy_.

Chanyeol blinked, his lips parted and throbbing after Kyungsoo’s intense manipulation, then narrowed his eyes a little, quirking up one side of his mouth.

            “What?” There was a smile there, disbelief mostly, but a smile, unmistakably. Kyungsoo wracked his brain for the right response, for the move that would win him over. Perhaps… coy?

            “I… I just…” he tried, batting his eyes like he’d seen Sehun do for his boyfriend, always making him feel like he was seeing something he shouldn’t, something private. “What would you do… if this happened three months ago?”

            Chanyeol’s brow loosened, his eyes widening a little. He huffed out a shaky breath, still cinnamon-sharp, his eyes travelling down Kyungsoo’s body, still straddling his hips.

            “You can’t ask me that…” he mumbled unconvincingly. Kyungsoo couldn’t help the little spark of gratification in his chest. He thumbed little circles along Chanyeol’s cheekbones, willing his eyes to come back up.

            “Come on, Yeollie.” Kyungsoo added a little moan to his voice, pleading and playful, like he’d heard in the racier selections Baekhyun favored for their bi-monthly movie nights. He arched his back a little, encouraging Chanyeol’s hands to travel further down his body. “It’s three months ago. It’s three months ago and I… I _want_ you,” he breathed, pouting out his lips, the only part of his body of which he was genuinely confident.

            Chanyeol sighed out an almost pained exhale as he tipped his head to the side.

            “You… you sound like a movie, Soo.” He bit his lip, his eyes dropping to Kyungsoo’s body again. Somehow, Kyungsoo knew he was close. He saw the temptation, the wavering in Chanyeol’s eyes, skirting down his face toward his neck… so Kyungsoo made his play.

            He tipped his head back a few degrees, exposing his throat, then let his hands drop back to rest lightly on the back on Chanyeol’s neck. He saw Chanyeol’s eyes sink lower, cautious but burning in their intensity, across Kyungsoo’s chest and stomach, then to his hips, spread vulnerably on top of him. Kyungsoo put on a show, flexing his ass muscles and grinding down into Chanyeol’s lap, as filthy as he could manage, anchoring his weight on the back of Chanyeol’s neck. Again, Chanyeol groaned, this time full and open and raw, defeated… ready.

            Kyungsoo smothered his triumphant smile by kissing Chanyeol again, snaking his hands around from Chanyeol’s neck to the hem of his raspberry sweater, bunching it up in his hands. Chanyeol hummed into his mouth in approval, breaking away to let him pull the material off his head and hands. Kyungsoo took a small, rational amount of satisfaction in tossing the rumpled, gifted sweater into a dark corner before returning to Chanyeol’s lips. But Chanyeol resisted, pulling one of Kyungsoo’s wrists up between them. He closed his eyes and brought the skin to meet his nose, inhaling deeply, then kissed the flat, vulnerable spot with swollen lips.

            “You smell… you smell incredible.” Kyungsoo felt electricity surge beneath his skin, Chanyeol’s breath marking him just above his pulse. “You smell… like…”

            “It smells better on you,” Kyungsoo tried to pull his wrist away, but Chanyeol held on.

            “No, really. It’s different on you, Soo. It’s like… darker.” He shook his head, unhappy with the word. “It’s hard to explain.” He inhaled again, sending another wave of endorphins through Kyungsoo’s tilted, loopy mind. “But it’s heavy, and like… rich. Like… soil or something.”

            “I smell like dirt?” Kyungsoo twisted his wrist in Chanyeol’s grip and took a whiff of the cologne on his own skin. It had settled after a few hours, the cheap smell mellowing with his unique chemistry into something cooler. It _was_ dirty, more than a little musky… and somehow earthy. Like the thick complexity of the rainforest floor, or a field seeing sun after a week’s rain. So different from Chanyeol’s temperamental, fiery scent, the woodsy fragrance sinking into them uniquely. Kyungsoo gnawed on his lip to keep from grinning, trying to keep the mood, but Chanyeol was wearing his best charming grin again, and Kyungsoo couldn’t help mirroring him.

            “In the best way,” Chanyeol answered before dropping his hands to take Kyungsoo’s shirt off over his head.

            Strangely, less clothing made Kyungsoo feel hotter, the blaze of Chanyeol’s skin against his own searing and unbearable. They knotted together, Chanyeol’s feet on the floor, Kyungsoo’s legs wrapped around his hips, chest to chest and almost rabid in their movement. It was better than any trip, any high or buzz Kyungsoo could chase down, feeling Chanyeol’s firm, wet tongue just behind his ear, his hands hungrily stroking up and down Kyungsoo’s back in tandem with the rhythm Kyungsoo was setting with his hips. He couldn’t help himself, but he mollified his flickering anxiety over moving so quickly by remembering how long he’d actually been waiting for this.

            _Three months isn’t much compared to five years._

            Jongin’s unassuming voice swirled through Kyungsoo’s foggy mind again, reminding him of the sharp edge this moment held for Chanyeol. He didn’t feel guilty (how could he, when he’d been in love with Chanyeol longer than Jackson had even been in college), but he knew this wasn’t a carefree, thoughtless choice he was making.

            Chanyeol wouldn’t be doing this if it weren’t what he wanted. He wasn’t a short-sighted, selfish guy; quite the opposite. He was truly kind, generous, committed…

            This had to be worth the risk, then.

            Maybe Kyungsoo was worth it to Chanyeol. Maybe he was his choice. Right now.

            The thought flooded Kyungsoo with a writhing, aching hope, Chanyeol’s name rising out of him like a prayer, plaintive and weak, against Chanyeol’s bare shoulder.

            Chanyeol stilled for a second, his hands full of Kyungsoo’s ass, breathing unsteadily. Kyungsoo waited, still taut against him, hoping to God he hadn’t been wrong. But there, his voice chippy and corrosive, was Chanyeol’s growl so close to his ear it sounded like the words were coming from inside Kyungsoo.

            “Soo… I’m trying really hard here. But I don’t think I can say no to you.”

            Kyungsoo felt the words battle with the hope he’d been clinging to… but wasn’t this an invitation? Was Chanyeol asking Kyungsoo to push him, just that little bit farther?

            “Then don’t. Say yes.” Kyungsoo’s voice sounded foreign in his own ears, some crimson confidence threading through the air, intent on bringing Chanyeol to his knees. Or… perhaps the other way around.

            Before Chanyeol could respond, Kyungsoo was climbing off his lap, immediately dropping to the floor between his monstrously long legs. His hands found the button of Chanyeol’s jeans and fumbled it out of its notch easily, despite the darkness and his own alcohol consumption hindering him. The zipper’s metallic submission sounded harsh in the relatively quiet room, but as Kyungsoo worked the tight denim down Chanyeol’s hips, it was replaced by the gorgeous, heavy sounds of Chanyeol’s voice scraping in his throat, shredded and wanting.

            Kyungsoo couldn’t see too well in the dark bedroom, but enough light came through the window and under the door to throw Chanyeol’s stiff cock in relief against his abdomen. On more shameful days, Kyungsoo had imagined it, wondered about this particular aspect of Chanyeol’s physique. It wasn’t like he fondled himself dreaming about some veiny, cartoonish thing hanging oddly from Chanyeol’s beanpole frame. Rather, he’d settled, unconsciously, on a few little details that culminated into a rough image, a longed for hypothetical that complemented Chanyeol’s personality and build: the head, full and swollen for Kyungsoo’s pleasure alone, a handsome, full length that mirrored Chanyeol’s rangy height, though not absurdly so, fitting just a little too long in Kyungsoo’s smallish hands… and hair. Kyungsoo had climaxed faster than he had since he’d been a weedy teenager, choking out Chanyeol’s name into his fist the first time he’d let himself picture it, thick and dark below his firm stomach, trimmed some, and smelling so basely of him.

            The real thing made Kyungsoo salivate. Chanyeol was… _long_ … longer than he’d let himself imagine. His shaft curved a bit, Kyungsoo noticed, the hard length of him hooking up to the left just a little. Kyungsoo shucked Chanyeol’s jeans quickly to touch him, feel the weight of him, hot and thick in his hand. He stroked all the way up to the head, feeling slick precum across his palm. Chanyeol sucked in air, his teeth clacking together.

            “Soo…” he whined out, bending forward a little, his cock shifting slightly in Kyungsoo’s hand. The friction made Kyungsoo dizzy with arousal, his cool fingers gripping just under the cockhead a little firmer, adding a hair more pressure, pulling another clipped groan from Chanyeol. Kyungsoo smiled to himself, eager and impatient for more. He squeezed experimentally, pulsing his hand up, once and then again, aided by the slip of liquid still leaking so teasingly from the tip. After a few small pumps, getting the feel for him in his hand, Kyungsoo angled his wrist, feeling Chanyeol’s taut, flushed skin pass under his own again, slicking down to the thick base of him. He gasped when the side of his hand reached Chanyeol’s pelvis. He was desperate to keep Chanyeol’s attention, to show him he was sexy and capable and _not_ a nervous, mildly obsessive dork who’d been pining for him for five years, but it was strange to be this close to him, to have nothing between them after all this time. Kyungsoo fought a sudden urge to cry, opting instead to bury his face in Chanyeol’s crotch.

            “ _Fuck…_ ”

            Kyungsoo wasn’t terribly experienced sexually, and he’d always been a little self-conscious of his oral abilities, but his inhibitions had been discarded somewhere outside, laying on the floor next to Jongin. He heard himself whining into the valley Chanyeol’s body, high and needy, five fingers gripping into his hip, the others relishing the constant, thin flow of liquid around his cockhead, dipping into the slit at the tip with the pad of his thumb. He exhaled a flood of sweltering heat all over the base of Chanyeol’s cock, catching in the curls of the dark hair there. He pressed his gaping, slutty lips into the thick of it, inhaling through his nose. The scent was as thick and toxic as paint. It filled him up instantly, his lungs on fire with it, so humid and sharp and dangerous. His spine arched, his ass jutting back as he cried out, the sound muffled but still loud as he mouthed sloppily around Chanyeol’s aching cock, his tongue greedy for the biting, salty taste of him.

            “Soo? Jesus... what are…” Kyungsoo felt Chanyeol’s massive hand touch the side of his head, a question. Kyungsoo winced a little, knowing his best attempts at seduction had shattered in that moment, his honest, pitiful need for Chanyeol peeking through. This wasn’t part of the plan. He wouldn’t win him over by slobbering all over him like an awkward crush.

            In reply, hoping to wrangle control again, Kyungsoo regretfully pulled his mouth away from Chanyeol’s crotch, bringing his lips toward Chanyeol’s hand. With eyes closed, he pecked a small kiss into his palm, humming as he did so, regaining his concentration and reassuring them both. Chanyeol’s long fingers slipping back into his hair as Kyungsoo angled down again, dropping his hand from its pause around the tip to stroke a little more insistently at the shaft as he licked up the underside of Chanyeol’s length, following the curve of him up and tracing around the dome with a languid pace.

            There was no way Kyungsoo was going to fit Chanyeol in his mouth entirely, so he didn’t attempt it. Instead, he tried every varied touch his mouth and hands could manage, listening for a hitch in Chanyeol’s breath, a quiet gasp, a twitch in his quads and a particularly tight pull of Kyungsoo’s hair. Every reaction was like water to a parched Kyungsoo as he worshiped Chanyeol’s cock until he was delirious with it.

            “Soo, please… please stop.”

            It had been… Kyungsoo had no idea how long he’d been at it, his lips numb and tingling, his fingers a more than a little cramped and tired. He shook the fog from his mind and straightened up, looking into Chanyeol’s hooded eyes. Instead of a pitying, dissatisfied look, Kyungsoo found Chanyeol’s brow dripping with sweat, his eyebrows so tightly laced together there was no space between them in the dark.

            “Yeollie? What… did I do something wr – ”

            “Soo, I have been dying to ask you something, and if you do that anymore I’m not going to get the chance,” Chanyeol cut him off, pleading eyes glistening.

            “Oh…” Kyungsoo sat back on his heels, unsure. “What is it?”

            “I… fuck, Soo, I don’t know what this is but… I want you. I want you…” he trailed off, dropping his head, somewhere between embarrassed and frustrated. Kyungsoo kept his smile to himself, pleased at how unraveled the man above him looked.

            “Yeollie. Ask me.” Kyungsoo reached up and placed his hand on Chanyeol’s bare chest, feeling the thin, hot veil of sweat on his skin mingle with the slightly tacky texture on his own. Chanyeol sighed and lifted his head again, finding Kyungsoo’s eyes in the dark.

            “I want you. I want… more of you. All of you. Please.”

            Kyungsoo didn’t dare move, fear of rejection his constant companion, even in this unbelievable moment.

            “What…” he hesitated.

            “Come here.”

            Chanyeol reached out, pulling Kyungsoo up toward him. Their lips met, softly once, then as hungry and lustful as before, as Chanyeol held Kyungsoo’s smaller, lighter body against his, turning them over on Jongin’s bed, laying Kyungsoo down beneath him. Kyungsoo took the briefest moment to admire Chanyeol’s arms, thick and flexing around him in a cage, before finding Chanyeol’s eyes again.

            “Can I… I mean…” Chanyeol brought one of his hands to Kyungsoo’s side, his soft fingers barely touching the bare skin sending a little shiver over Kyungsoo’s naked torso.

            “Yeol. Please. Just touch me.”

            Pausing just long enough to chuckle at Kyungsoo’s uninhibited enthusiasm, Chanyeol hooked his fingers into the waist of Kyungsoo’s pants, quickly unzipped them, and pulled them down by the belt loops. Kyungsoo shivered, flushed with self-doubt being so exposed to the muscled, masculine man above him.

            He didn’t mind being small, generally speaking, but it had been painful to meet Jackson for the first time, to see him standing next to Chanyeol just an inch or two taller than himself, and much more built, his black sleeveless tank both ridiculous looking and obnoxiously flattering. Kyungsoo was baffled that after dating a handful of meek, quiet guys that offset his endless exuberance, Chanyeol introduced Jackson, his new boyfriend, all athletic and arrogant. They shook hands, Jackson’s grip firm but casual, which dug into Kyungsoo even more; Jackson was confident, gaudy in his self-assurance, which Chanyeol seemed to find exceedingly charming, showing him off with uncontained enthusiasm. Kyungsoo had cried in the shower that night, picturing them together in every way, the images so removed from how he’d pictured himself with Chanyeol that they couldn’t even exist in the same universe. How could Chanyeol ever want Kyungsoo after having a taste of Jackson?

            But now, naked save for his navy briefs, Kyungsoo watched Chanyeol’s cock twitch with want, full and leaking, all for him. He swallowed, trying to keep himself calm as Chanyeol shifted a little on the bed, kneeling in front of Kyungsoo’s bent legs. He ran his hands up and down the length of them slowly, his eyes trained on Kyungsoo’s body, his lips parted slackly, settling on the stretchy waistband of Kyungsoo’s underwear. He looked up, Kyungsoo meeting his gaze in the dark and trying desperately not to show how shallow his breathing had become.

            “Can I?”

            “ _Please_.”

            Chanyeol pulled, sliding the material off Kyungsoo’s legs easily, dropping them by his similarly discarded pants. Overwhelmed with both excitement and skittering fear, Kyungsoo kept his legs tightly together, bent at the knee, hiding himself from Chanyeol. He craned his neck, watching, as Chanyeol returned his hand to Kyungsoo, fingers wrapping around his ankles, soft and steady.

            “I’ll go slow, if you want.”

            The words melted out of Chanyeol like syrup, sure and kind and easy, but Kyungsoo, whose inebriation was wearing off and was replaced by a much more potent, internal rush, wanted something else. Something rougher, something he could sink his teeth into.

            “It’s three months ago, remember? If you want me, you can have me,” he moaned out, debating if this counted as begging or not. He didn’t have time to decide as Chanyeol answered, jerking his hands up to Kyungsoo’s knees and spreading them in one sharp shove. Kyungsoo keened, his hard cock slapping against his abdomen with the force of it, his body exposed and vulnerable under Chanyeol.

            “Oh God…” He turned his face into the sheets, closing his eyes, unable to stomach seeing Chanyeol’s reaction to his pale, naked body, his shorter, thicker erection far less appealing than Chanyeol’s impressive length. Blinded, Kyungsoo felt Chanyeol’s hands on him more acutely, his splayed fingers resting on the insides of his knees. He heard thick, textured sounds of Chanyeol balancing on his knees, the sheets rustling against his skin as he angled over Kyungsoo, and his own breath, collecting hot against the sheet he was burrowing into, gasping out of him as one of Chanyeol’s hands traveled up his leg, running lightly up the sensitive skin to touch, too softly, the achingly full girth of him. Kyungsoo whimpered, his hips rolling lewdly around on the bed; he would have curled up in a ball had Chanyeol not held his legs open, crawling up between them on his knees.

            “All that teasing, and you’re going to bail on me now?” Chanyeol hummed, his fingers engulfing Kyungsoo’s cock in quick, dry strokes. “All talk, then?”

            Kyungsoo whined into the sheet, arching his back into the hot friction. Chanyeol’s hands were huge, a loose fist curling around him, working him into rhythmic thrusts of his slim hips. It was a little irritating, having his hard-earned seduction dismantled in a few short minutes, so he whipped his head back up, finding Chanyeol hovering over him, peering down with an inexplicable expression on his face.

            “Shut the fuck up and fuck me,” Kyungsoo hissed, his lip curling into a devious little smile. Chanyeol sneered, laughing.

            “There it is.”

            He let go of Kyungsoo’s cock, drawing a gruff groan from him as he did so, lifting his fingers to his mouth. His tongue passed over his fingers, wetting them, then spat, hooking them to holding the liquid. Kyungsoo couldn’t help his sharp inhale as he felt Chanyeol’s fingers sneak under his cock, dipping down to touch lightly, then with more pressure around his entrance.

            “Oh fuck, Yeollie…” Kyungsoo keened, raising his hips up to allow better access. Chanyeol murmured as his fingers went to work, easing the tension from Kyungsoo’s muscle with steady, practiced touches. “Hurry up… please.”

            “You want me now?”

            Kyungsoo eyed the shadowed area between Chanyeol’s legs, knowing he’d never taken anything close to his size before. He wasn’t into the whole pain/pleasure dynamic, but five years was a long enough time to prepare for this, even if his body might protest a bit.

            He nodded, pulling his legs out wider, holding himself open for Chanyeol like the lovesick fuck he was.

            Feeling Chanyeol sink into him, a little too long, definitely too dry, and three months too late felt about as close to dying as Kyungsoo imagined he’d experienced before. It _hurt_ , the rough burn of offended muscles giving way to Chanyeol’s abusive, precum-coated cockhead, but he also felt an intense, pure satisfaction, a euphoria containing the justified hunger of five years, the victory of winning him over, here, in this moment. Chanyeol slid inside him slowly, stuffing him full, an unyielding pressure radiating out from the core of Kyungsoo’s body. He gritted his teeth, willing himself to relax, to override his straining ass and accept Chanyeol’s throbbing cock.

            “Soo? Talk to me, Soo…” Chanyeol’s voice cracked roughly with effort, his hands planted on either side of Kyungsoo’s head, a thumb reaching over to touch lightly on Kyungsoo’s earlobe.

            Kyungsoo blinked a few times, realized he’d had his eyes closed. Tight. Now that he noticed, he’d also managed to bring his knees up hard against his chest, bent entirely in half, raising his ass up to meet Chanyeol. His fingers were hooked around the backs of his legs, holding on with white knuckles, his teeth almost breaking the skin on the right knee, the thin taste of his tears collecting around his open, biting mouth.

            Chanyeol, his cock half-buried, held himself up with one arm, his other hand reaching to Kyungsoo’s tensed up knees.

            “Here… let me…” He carefully shifted himself, lifting one of Kyungsoo’s legs to rest on his broad shoulder, an ankle curled around his neck. The position allowed Kyungsoo to relax a little more, his other leg hooking back behind Chanyeol’s hips. Again, Chanyeol leaned in, so _so_ slowly. “Breathe,” he groaned, as he fucked deeper into Kyungsoo’s aching ass. Kyungsoo couldn’t seem to manage exhaling, caught up in the seemingly endless wedge of Chanyeol, plying him open, manipulating his hips to sink deeper into him, in, in, deeper, more.

            “Fuck!” Kyungsoo howled, the strain of it too much to process. His lungs burned with air held too long. This was too much. He wanted more.

            Digging his nails into the mattress, Kyungsoo exhaled hard through his teeth, thrusting his hips up, ramming himself onto the last inch of Chanyeol’s cock, savoring the smack of his ass against Chanyeol’s pelvis. It really fucking hurt, and he felt like he could float away with the bliss of it.

            “Fuck me, Yeollie. I can’t wait anymore…” Kyungsoo half-choked out, but Chanyeol was already moving, hitching his grip lower on Kyungsoo’s ass, his hands so wide and possessive around him as he rolled his hips, the spare moisture from his spit and precum just enough. He pulled out, torqueing his body to still hold Kyungsoo tightly, then pushed back in, invasive and merciless. Kyungsoo didn’t think of himself as a vocal partner in bed, but he realized he just hadn’t had anything worth screaming about until now. In the dark, he lost his way, immersed in the rough drag of Chanyeol’s girth in and out, steady but speeding up, crying out and moaning in perfect time. He felt his muscles give in fully after a few minutes, Chanyeol’s punishing thrusts forcing him into submission, his grip on Kyungsoo’s leg a little tighter.

            “Fuck, Soo… you feel fucking incredible,” Chanyeol huffed out, spreading his own knees a bit for a lower, sharper stance over Kyungsoo’s vulnerable body, fucking into him a little deeper. “Why haven’t we done this before?”

            “My! Fault!” Kyungsoo squeaked, feeling Chanyeol’s cockhead press dangerously close to some hidden depth inside him. A fevered rush sprang up on his skin. “There! Again, please! Right there _ah!_ ”

            Chanyeol’s fingers dug into Kyungsoo, lifting him off the bed to brace him, fucking fast and harsh, crushing into that spot over and over. Kyungsoo couldn’t tell if he’d closed his eyes, but his vision blurred and sparked as a heavy weight built inside him.

            “Oh God Soo, you look fucking perfect,” Chanyeol growled, his hips ravaging in their pace.

            “I’m – _I’m!”_ And Kyungsoo fell, a gut punch wrecking out through the rest of his body as he climaxed, his cock shooting cum down his torso, dripping on his stomach. Chanyeol moaned out something in response, his hips stuttering and digging in hard again, again, again, again. He wailed out Kyungsoo’s name, his own orgasm released deep in Kyungsoo’s used ass, punctuated with slower, erratic thrusts, creamy liquid leaking out around him as he finished.

            Chanyeol did his best to pull out slowly, though his cum eased the slip plenty; he sat back on his heels, lowering Kyungsoo down onto the bed, the two of them panting heavily with exertion and satisfaction.

            “Jesus…”

            Kyungsoo looked up, finding Chanyeol’s hands fisted in his hair, his posture spent and concave. An ugly, acidic feeling flooded Kyungsoo’s stomach. He had watched Chanyeol enough over the last five years to see the shift in him. However sure he’d been about this just moments ago, however much he’d loved his cock abusing Kyungsoo’s ass with abandon, now he’d suddenly regained his conscience.

            Kyungsoo ignored the awkward throb of his muscles and his filthy state to sit up on the bed.

            “Hey…”

            Chanyeol looked up, thin wet lines down his cheeks just visible in the light through the window. Kyungsoo steeled himself.

            “You mind handing me my pants?” He stood, only faltering a little as he bent over to pick up his shirt. “They’re behind you on the floor I think.” He forced his voice to stay steady.

            Chanyeol blinked at him blankly, then turned, ducking down to retrieve the discarded clothing. He held them out for Kyungsoo, who was running a hand through his hair, putting himself back together.

            “Thanks. I’m going to clean myself up in here. You don’t mind using the bathroom in the hall do you?” He walked with his bundle of clothes toward Jongin’s bathroom on the other side of the room. He paused with his hand on the knob, turning to look at Chanyeol, still sitting, a bit crumpled up, on the side of the bed. “We good?” he quipped, his voice bright.

            He didn’t wait for a response, a fervent sting behind his eyes threatening to ruin him. He slipped into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He couldn’t bear to turn the light on just yet, but he fumbled around for the faucet, knocking over some jar of something, before finding it, filling the room with the rush of running water. He dropped his clothes to the floor, then sank down on top of them, his knees landing partly on his jeans, partly on Jongin’s fluffy bathmat. Instantly, Kyungsoo was wracked with silent sobs, tears streaming hot down his face. He jammed his fist into his mouth, biting down hard to suffocate the sound, that and the water enough to keep his cover.

            He stayed there, balled up in the floor, shaking and weeping, for just four minutes. That was enough time to dig deep and find the cold, practiced restraint he’d worn as armor the last five years, donning its heavy, ragged weight with resolve. He stood, flicked on the light, his eyes raging at the sudden change. He washed himself off, dressed, and sorted his ruddy, salty face and messy hair. After several minutes, he turned to leave the room, his composure intact. Before he turned the knob, he righted Jongin’s jar of pomade he’d knocked over before. He let out a single, soggy laugh, realizing he’d just defiled Jongin’s bed, but at least he’d saved his hair product.

            Exiting Jongin’s empty bedroom, Kyungsoo stood in the little alcove outside his door, listening for the others. He could hear Baekhyun, and maybe two others, probably Sehun and Jongin, just down the hall in the kitchen. He strained his ears, waiting another minute, not sure if he wanted to hear another voice or not. But the bassy timbre was absent, Chanyeol either silent or gone. He took a deep breath, an echo of Chanyeol’s cologne still wafting in the small space.

It was too much. He wanted more.

\--- --- ---

            “Why did you invite him?”

            “Kind of a package deal, Soo.”

            Baekhyun flicked his eyebrows up at Kyungsoo, leaning against the wall outside their theater.

            “Mm…” Kyungsoo responded, now irritated and nervous. “You could have warned me.”

            “I was hoping maybe this would help. Seeing them, seeing him… might…”

            “Might what? What possible good could come out of this?” Kyungsoo whispered as his eyes scanned around for the nearest exit.

            “It’s just a fucking movie, Soo, get a grip.”

            “With the guy I love and his boyfriend. Whom he cheated on. With me,” Kyungsoo hissed.

            “Don’t forget – in the bed of the guy who was in love with you. That’s my favorite part.”

            Kyungsoo couldn’t decide if he wanted to vomit, dry, or deck Baekhyun in the cinema lobby, and his stalling took just long enough for Chanyeol to approach, Jackson in tow, their matching snapbacks perched merrily on their heads.

            “Hey guys! We got your tickets,” Baekhyun called out, prompting Kyungsoo to automatically don his best unaffected expression, playing his part.

            The four of them entered the theater, Jackson chattering animatedly about how nice it was to be out, how tired he was from his grueling fencing regimen, how glad he was to be out with Chanyeol’s friends. Kyungsoo winced every time they touched, his eyes drawn to the little pets they doled out constantly, Chanyeol’s broad hand on Jackson’s back, Jackson’s boyish smile widening even more.

            However betrayed and frustrated he was with him, Baekhyun did his best to shield Kyungsoo from unnecessary pain, choosing to sit next to Jackson in the dimly lit theater, Chanyeol and Kyungsoo bookending of the group.

            The film started, the action sequences satisfyingly loud and explosive, numbing Kyungsoo’s panicked mind with erratic plot and special effects. It was fine, everything was fine until the protagonist held his lover in his burly arms, kissing her once deeply, before leaving to nobly fight… something, Kyungsoo wasn’t sure what was happening. The kiss echoed in his mind, gnawing greedily at him, conjuring up the taste of Chanyeol on his tongue, the memory tainting it into something bitter, corrosive.

            He turned, just a little, and peered down the row. Chanyeol’s eyes were already there, fierce and full and Kyungsoo couldn’t begin to decipher what he might be saying. He would never know, since Jackson chose that moment to lean over, tucking his head into the crook of Chanyeol’s neck. Chanyeol blinked, dropping his gaze to his boyfriend, and nuzzled in, leaving Kyungsoo to mark the definitive end to their story alone, one he’d never had the guts to begin.


	2. Chapter 2

            “Okay, I’m sorry, but I give up.” 

            Rather than open his eyes and face her, Jongin closed them tighter, his heart pounding arrhythmically in his chest. 

            “Jongin…” The coy lilt she’d maintained through the whole ordeal finally gave out, replaced by humorless fatigue, each word a sigh. He felt her retreat away from him, her hands lifting off his legs, the cloying, sticky warmth of her receding. “Oppa, come on, look at me.”

            Still flat on his back, her lumpy floral sheets too warm against his skin, he tried to swallow, but his dry throat spasmed awkwardly around abrasive, stale air. Instead, he coughed, body jerking stiffly out of its prone position. He kept his eyes averted from hers, busying himself with yanking his pants back up. His underwear bunched off-center, his flaccid, overstimulated length stuffed oddly sideways by the itchy, claustrophobic fabric. 

            “It’s… it’s okay. I…” But her voice trailed off as Jongin stood on unsteady legs, stepping brusquely past her kneeling frame. He pivoted around awkwardly, chest hot with urgency, scanning the clothes-covered floor for his shirt.

            “Oppa, I don’t know what I did…” 

            “It’s not you,” Jongin mumbled as he bent down to reach for a pale gray shirt. He held it out, then dropped it again as the glittery letters revealed themselves in the folds. Suzy’s disorganized, borderline slobbish nature, which Jongin had seen as sort of an endearing nuisance, was now directly impeding his escape, sending his pulse thrumming out of rhythm.

            “Then why didn’t you… you know...”

            He lunged again, though he knew the texture wasn’t right, letting her sweatshirt fall back onto the floor. He felt his ears burn, his boiling urge to flee leaching out of him. 

            “I’m not mad, I just… is there something maybe… wrong? With it?” 

_             Forget the shirt. Run. _

            Jongin’s eyes flew over the laundry-laden terrain again, his mouth too raw with dehydration to form words. 

            “It’s not a big deal, I guess…”

_             There.  _ He snatched his balled up shirt from under the desk chair, jamming his arms into it hastily. He turned to the door, his breathing loud and shallow, but her hand grabbed onto his shoulder as his hand reached for the knob.

            “Hey!”

            Jongin bit his cheek hard. 

            “You’re leaving? What is this, Jongin?”

            “I have to go,” he croaked out, edging out of her grasp. He opened the door, the rush of air from the hall clearing the sour smell of his own inadequacy. 

_             Go, go. Go. _

            Something jabbed him square in the back, sending him sprawling for balance.

            “Fuck you then.” 

            He turned; a silver stiletto settled on the floor between his stumbling feet and the open doorway, its mate poised in Suzy’s hand. 

            “I liked you, Jongin. I liked your whole inexperienced, don’t-know-how-hot-I-am, project thing, but really,” she narrowed her eyes, taking aim, “you’re just a little creep.” Jongin stood half-bent, watching her measure every weak, empty inch of him. Her mouth, arguably her best feature, had spread with disgust into something between grimace and grin. “I suck your dick for almost an hour and you can’t even get it up? Really?” 

            Jongin winced, paralyzed under her revolted, squinting expression, waiting for another blow. But instead of hurling more accusations or the other heel, she paused, a dark glint shifting in her eyes, then coughed out a laugh. A single, blunt dismissal, exhaled from her lips like smoke.

            “I get it. You’re… barren. Or whatever the word is.” She tilted her head, blatantly addressing Jongin’s deflated manhood. “You’re not even a real man, I guess.” She took a step toward him, lifting her hand to Jongin’s face as he cowered, frozen in shock. “Just a sad, sick little boy with nothing to offer anyone. Such a pity,” she hummed, touching a thin finger to his swollen, chapped lips, “to be so handsome... and so worthless.” 

            She retracted her finger, eying the tip with revulsion before wiping it on Jongin’s tee shirt. And without another word, she turned and padded back into her room, closing the door firmly behind her. 

            Jongin gaped at the space Suzy left behind, his lungs strangely cavernous. His breath came back to him in warped gulps as his gaze fell from the door to the discarded silver shoe left beside him on the floor, Suzy’s words sinking into his gut like ink. 

            Her words, tossed away as carelessly as trash, signed his fate.

**Author's Note:**

> Just to be clear, I'm in no way glorifying cheating. I hope that's clear. Something very similar happened to me once, and it was bad for everyone involved. I'm not insensitive to the pain cheating causes, no matter how good it feels at the time. 
> 
> I'd love to hear your feedback on this, if you have the time to comment. I really appreciate you reading!


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